


thrive.

by maiririri



Category: B-PROJECT 鼓動＊アンビシャス | B-PROJECT: Kodou Ambitious
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Other, an alternate retelling, ment. of eating disorders and mental health stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2020-04-11 18:59:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19115755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiririri/pseuds/maiririri
Summary: Fans just think they know everything about their favorite idols.





	1. Chapter 1

THRIVE didn’t seem like they were close to outsiders.

THRIVE was a narcissist, a yankee, and an angel tossed together to make the ultimate ‘wild style’ band. Sugar, spice, and everything nice- and a splash of whatever the hell chemical x was, to boost the ‘wild.’

THRIVE was made of three clashing personalities, the types where fans could never tell who the leader was because each of their characters were too strong and too overpowering in their own ways. Some fans wondered if the leader position even mattered- others decided to fight amongst themselves to crown the true image of the group.

THRIVE was a set of nagging parents that needed a divorce and their disconnected son who was constantly pulled into their marital affairs. Sometimes he made the situation better. Sometimes he made it worse.

THRIVE was three people that supposedly didn’t care about each other. They either only cared about their work or they ignored it altogether. That was what made them ‘cool’ apparently. The fact that they were lost on empathy, and rarely looked at each other on stage.

THRIVE was three kids shoved into a practice room together when they were back at the talent agency, and forced to see each other constantly while growing up. Forced to share voices and forced to mix their sweat and tears with each others until they didn’t know whose body they came from. 

THRIVE was three teenagers boarded together without any of them knowing how to take care of themselves, let alone each other. One of them could drive, two of them could clean, but not a single of the three of them cook. More often than not they lived on takeout and hated almost every second of it.

THRIVE originally had four members. They lost their fourth for the best of the group. Fans never knew that. They never would. They would never know that it made them stronger, and closer than before. They would never know the hell they went through to make the group work. They would never know their real personalities off-screen and off the record.

They would never know. 

There were lots of things they’d never know.

Truthfully, THRIVE was misunderstood.

But B-PROJECT knew that the best.

* * *

When Goshi was 14, he left to study abroad in America. He loved music and was pretty good when it came to learning English at school. He always passed his tests with flying colors and was respected as having some of the best pronunciation in the school. English, he knew, was important to making it far in the entertainment industry. The most famous singers were American, and once you became famous in the west, you were famous everywhere else. Goshi wanted to know that international success. He was only in Bambi now so that one day he could break off the training wheels and become a professional artist. Knowing how to speak English would get him to that stage sooner. So he left Japan to become fluent.

No one saw him off at the airport except for his family, and he wasn’t sure if he minded that or not.

During his program, he met Haruhi and Yuzuki. Apparently, they were also enrolled in Bambi, but he never noticed them because they were younger by two years. Small world, he figured. What was interesting though, was that they already knew English (British English, to be precise), and when asked about it, he found out that they started their education in England but never got to finish it there due to family affairs and custody issues. They moved around a lot. Figured they’d join the American program when they had the chance for similar reasons to Goshi, and ultimately decided it might translate better to their more recent Japanese lifestyle than their British background would. Pretty understandable reasoning.

They became close quickly, the twins clinging to him in admiration while Goshi insisted on practicing spoken English with them. It worked out quite favorably, all in all.

Every day that he was gone from Japan, Yuta thought about him. He wondered if Goshi was having fun... if he was eating well, if he was passing his courses, if he was still practicing guitar and singing in his new apartment, if he managed to make friends other than Yuta and Kento and Akane…

Yuta wondered if Goshi thought about him too. He would stay up at night, trying to send his mental messages to Goshi on the other side of the world, and sometimes he would fall asleep and dream that Goshi was replying to him. But he always woke up, and the illusion of having Goshi close by shattered and left him sighing under the covers.

He missed Goshi. A lot. 

One day Yuta asked Kento how he thought Goshi was doing. Kento said that he was sure Goshi was doing perfectly because he’s too picky about everything to not do perfectly. Yuta smiled at that- it was true.

The next thing he asked was if Kento missed Goshi, to which Kento froze in his stretches and hesitated.

Answering would be like fire on his tongue. Saying no would be hurtful, and a lie. Saying yes would be admitting that he cared for Goshi far more than he let on when that wasn’t really the vibe of their relationship.

In the end though, he said yes, knowing that he cared to at least some extent, and the atmosphere was definitely different without the hot head around. Yuta just smiled again and said he missed Goshi, too. And that was the end of their conversation, knowing that what their hearts were feeling were emotions much stronger than what the capability they had to put into words could describe as dumb kids.

Goshi got a cell phone several months after leaving, and when Yuta found out through Yashamaru-san, he begged his parents to let him have one too. Kento already had a phone- he was 15 so he was old enough. But Yuta was only 12 and his parents didn’t think he needed one until he was crying about talking to Goshi overseas. He got a simple flip phone- a pink one, his favorite color. He wondered if Goshi’s phone was black, or maybe red, while he stuck stickers of rainbow candy onto his own. 

Kento and Akane were already given Goshi’s email address through Yashamaru-san, and Yuta proudly strolled into his office the next day, waving his shiny new phone in the air, and demanded to know Goshi’s email address as well. Yashamaru-san laughed and happily handed it over.

Yuta of course, absolutely ecstatic, immediately wrote out a text message- well, rewrote it a few times, since he still fumbled with the keyboard- and sent it to Goshi with the giddiest smile. It took about a minute to get a reply.

“Hey Ashuu, tell Yashamaru-san to stop giving people my address.”

He showed Kento and Akane, laughing, and completely forgot to tell Yashamaru-san afterward.

* * *

 

Something was off about Kento. Akane and Ryuji noticed before Yuta could since Yuta woke up late that day.

Akane saw how dark his eyes were and how he looked a little paler than usual and asked if he was feeling alright. Kento said he was fine, but Ryuji didn’t believe it. Kento could be 15, but even as a 13-year-old, Ryuji was perceptive enough to know that something had shaken him.

The next day he looked the same. He wasn’t acting any different than the day before, so Yuta was inclined to listen to his new claims of only feeling under the weather because of allergies… but Akane was still worried. Ryuji looked on from the side with suspicious eyes.

A week passed. Kento had less energy but looked decent. He continued saying that his allergies were wearing him down, and it was believable enough at that point for Ryuji.

A month passed. Kento was a little less chatty overall, but he became interested in wearing makeup all of a sudden. Ryuji loved makeup and talked Kento’s ear off about how to wear it, what would look good on his complexion, and more things that Akane and Yuta didn’t quite understand. They left those two to their gossip and shared sugary candy on the practice bench. 

After another month, Kento had gotten pretty good at using eyeliner, and concealer to cover up how dark his under-eyes looked. He went out with Ryuji more often to learn about beauty supplies, and they shared magazines during down times. Akane and Yuta didn’t think any of it, seeing it as being a hobby that would also help them out when they finally debuted and had to look pretty on stage. Kento was just getting a head start. They’d have to do that too, at some point.

After six months had passed, Kento turned 16 years old. He was relatively good at makeup by then, on top of learning how to style his hair. He got an undercut- the coolest of cool hairstyles, according to Akane’s judgment. Yuta praised him as well, calling him pretty amongst a flurry of other compliments. Kento smiled widely for the first time in a while. His eyes glittered with something that was once lost and Yuta hadn’t seen since more than six months ago. Kento seemed very proud of himself.

 Once eight months had gone by, Akane and Yuta wondered why Kento wouldn’t go out to eat with them as much anymore. Kento was never a big eater, but for quite a while now his meals had been dwindling. In fact, he almost stopped going out entirely. Sure, Akane and Yuta were foodies- everyone knew that. Akane had an endless pit of a stomach made specifically for meat, and Yuta was always going to cafes to satisfying his unrelenting sweet tooth. But even for a tame lunch, Kento would turn down their offers. Maybe he was trying to act more mature as a 16-year-old, Yuta thought. Akane agreed, teasing Kento about treating his kouhais to take out one day, to which Kento bitterly laughed with a “you got me.” At some point he really did, flaunting his handsome seniority and looking more energetic than he had in previous months. The makeup and new fashion helped with that- Kento was beautiful and seemed like he was taking good care of himself now, on top of joining his friends for a meal once more. Akane and Yuta’s worries were resolved, even if briefly.

A full year later, Kazuna accidentally saw Kento making himself throw up in the bathroom.

He ran to Yashamaru-san practically in tears. Nobody else knew what happened, and they weren’t going to— Kazuna told everyone he scraped his elbow on the sidewalk really badly and ran to the office because it was bleeding so much. But at the end of the day, Kazuna left the building still looking extremely upset, and Akane realized that Kento never came back to practice after lunch time.

Before the training session came to a complete close, Yashamaru asked Akane and Yuta to join him in the office with a concerned expression stretching across his face.

Kento was already sitting there with reddened eyes and tear streaks staining his cheeks, sniffling. He wouldn’t look at the two of them, and Yuta’s heart dropped into his stomach as if scissors coated in molten guilt cut the strings holding his emotions together.

Since that evening, Yuta and Akane were tasked with looking over their friend to make sure he wasn’t hurting himself. It was... very difficult. They didn’t want to manhandle him or yell at their friend whenever he tried to go to the washroom, but they also just wanted it all to stop, They wanted things to go back to when they were dumb and happy and Kento wasn’t being treated like a criminal on probation.

Kento wanted that too. He wanted that even more than all of them combined- he wished he locked the stall closed that day Kazuna walked in on him. He wished he never saw the looks of horror that crossed Akane and Yuta’s faces when Yashamaru told them what Kazuna saw. He wished he could have actually acted like the senpai he was supposed to be for his peers. He wished he wasn’t so goddamn pathetic, vomiting and pretending to be someone he wasn’t every single day. 

Yashamaru-san wasn’t angry, but he was very upset, worried, and felt guilty as well for not noticing Kento’s shift in habits. But Kento couldn’t find it in himself to look his friends and mentor in the eye anymore, and that’s what hurt the most.

Eventually, Kento spilled his guts out on the table and told Yashamaru-san that he felt like he was failing as an idol because he couldn’t sing or dance as well as the others and his only saving grace was probably his only-half-decent appearance. Apparently some kids at school and around the neighborhood had been bullying him for the past two years or so, calling him a plethora of insults and slurs and making fun of him because his only family was a mother who was never home, who probably didn’t care about him one bit, who left the house an eroding mess with a scent that clung to all of his clothing and made it obvious to other kids that he didn’t have a place beside them. It was degrading and mortifying. He pushed himself to at least fix up his looks by following entirely unhealthy beauty standards- if he looked nice, maybe those kids would stop pulling his hair and throwing things at him. They wouldn’t call him fat and ugly anymore. But all that pressure did was make him develop an eating disorder on top of cruel anxiety, and Yashamaru was crushed with so much regret that he let this happen to a 16-year-old child that he cried that night.

The next day he told Kento to go through his mother's purse and find his health insurance card. It took the kid a while, but within the next week, Kento was taken to the doctor and recommended a specialist.

Yuta was so scared and so sad that he could never have helped one of his best friends like that. He sobbed in front of Akane, hoping Kento could forgive him one day for being an idiot that didn’t pay enough attention to the people he loved. Mentally, he vowed to himself to take better care of everyone in his life, and to cheer them up the best he could when they were having a hard time.

All the meanwhile, Goshi never knew what was happening back home. Nobody ever texted him to let him know what was happening to Kento, and the state of Bambi. Kento himself never told Goshi out of pure embarrassment and asked Yuta and Akane to do the same. He could never know.

Goshi lived in unaware bliss in America, celebrating his 15th birthday with Haruhi and Yuzuki.

* * *

Kento’s anxiety became so awful that he had to be medicated. Even with that, he fidgeted with his hair and clothing constantly. Yuta and Akane made sure he was eating when they had the chance- he was definitely doing a bit better in that area, and even went out to eat with them on the occasion so that they knew he wasn’t throwing it up afterward. But the specialist he was seeing told Yashamaru-san that Kento was either predisposed to anxiety genetically, or his home life without parents to take care of him had badly impacted him since he was a child. It broke Yashamaru’s heart, but at least he knew Kento was getting the help he needed now. He’d much rather Kento be taking steps towards better health while he was 17, rather than only realizing there was an issue later down the line when he was dealing with the stacked stress of being an idol. It was around then that he really became a father figure rather than a mentor to Kento, and with that Kento felt a lot less stress knowing he had some form of a reliable guardian.

Kazuna was still friends with Kento- they never broke apart, besides it being awkward to talk the first two or three weeks after Kento’s incident. But on a rainy Wednesday night, when Kazuna had invited Kento to his house, he confessed a tearful apology. By that time, Kento had no longer cared about what happened a year ago- but it clearly weighed on Kazuna’s mind heavily after witnessing him stick his fingers down his throat that day. He patted Kazuna on the back, smiling sadly, and thanked him for telling Yashamaru he was sick. He only would have gotten worse had Kazuna not been brave enough to run out.

Kazuna smiled through his sudden stream of tears and hugged Kento, telling him he’d always do his best to help out his friend and Kento believed him with every bit of his heart. Kazuna didn’t have a mother at home either... maybe Kazuna was the only one who really understood what was happening to him. He kept that in the back of his mind, knowing that one day he might need it in order to reciprocate Kazuna’s kindness.

* * *

 

On the 4th of July it was sunny in Japan. Because of all the commotion between new talent and their own group's discord, most of the same generation boys decided to have a slumber party to relax and enjoy the Summer sunshine for just one day. At Tomohisa’s house, Tatsuhiro, Akane, Miroku, and Yuta enjoyed the pool- but in his inherent clumsiness, Yuta knocked his phone off of the patio table, into the water, and fried its battery. He was incredibly sad about it and almost cried, but mainly because of the stickers that got ruined and the texts he probably lost. His parents knew he was clumsy enough to break the whole thing and that's why the phone was so cheap- in case it needed to be replaced. Of course, Tomo offered to buy him a new one despite it being nowhere near his fault, but Yuta turned it down with furious head shaking and hand flailing. He’d get a new one soon for himself. There’s no reason his friend should have to buy him a phone he’d probably break again.

Mikado insisted on watching the Mamirin movies on Tomo’s projector screen with Momotaro, Hikaru, and Kazuna, and Ryuji sat outside in the sun with Tomo. Kento came to the party late after an appointment. When it got dark out, someone decided it would have been a great idea to watch a horror film together as some sort of courage test, but the only one who sat through it was Momo and the poor boy was forced to hear everyone awake and flipping out for the next few hours while he tried to sleep. Kento, admittedly, was too antsy about washing off his face and messing up his hair in front of the others so he pretended he wasn’t tired at all, and would— in his mind— hopefully go to bed last and wake up first so that no one had to see him in his natural skin. Only Kazuna, Akane, and Yuta knew of his disorders, but it wasn’t as if they knew what was going on in his head, like why he didn’t even consider going into the pool when he was sweating so much and why he was staying up despite being so tired he was going to fall over on top of Kazuna and why he so stubbornly said he’d wait when offered to use the restroom to wash up for the night and why he kept his futon further away from everyone else’s-

Maybe accepting the invitation to a sleepover was a bad idea in retrospect.

As everyone tucked themselves in for the night, Kento quietly made his way down the dark hallway that ran past the kitchen and led towards the washroom. He scrubbed himself free of concealer and mascara to the point his cheeks turned pink, getting his hair wet and messy in the process. His bangs curled and stuck out in new directions. So annoying.

Looking in the mirror again, he didn’t look _too_ bad. But still, he’d rather not have anyone see him- it was like being naked in public. So embarrassing.

Shutting the door quietly, he shuffled back down the hallway, trying to make sure not to alert anyone awake. So stressful. 

He didn’t have to wake anyone. Momo was already standing in the unlit kitchen, holding a glass of water.

They made eye contact and within a split second Kento’s blood flashed both cold and hot simultaneously, his skin prickling with what he could only feel as being physical fear. He had to say something. He couldn’t just stand there, frozen, staring at Momo. Something- anything-

“…You scared me.” 

“Your shadow passing did too. But sorry. Maybe I should have turned on the light, but I didn’t want to wake anyone.”

“That’s okay. Um, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Kento.” 

He scurried off to his lone futon, stuffing himself inside and facing the wall. Did Momo see him? Did Momo notice how messy his hair looked, that he wasn’t wearing anything on his face? Did Momo think he looked ugly, and that’s what that drawn-out moment of silence before talking to him was!? That Momo was processing how embarrassing he looked!?

Kento didn’t sleep that night. In the morning he got up and freshened himself up before anyone else was awake, and after having breakfast with the group he told Tomo he had to leave to run errands. He left with shaking hands pulling at his bangs, and with his stomach considering to send the eggs and waffles back to where they came from. He almost didn’t make it home without vomiting into one of those disgusting trash bins on the sidewalk, not that they were any different from him himself. But once he dragged himself inside the house he hated so much, he took his anxiety medication and immediately went to bed, willing himself to keep it together. 

Yuta wondered why Kento left so suddenly. Even with makeup on, he could tell that his eyes looked much darker underneath, like he didn’t get a wink of sleep. Kazuna became nervous as well- it wasn’t like Kento to shuffle himself away so suddenly. Honestly, he would go to check on him, but he didn’t know where Kento lived. Momo said nothing, for there was no reason to. 

On the 4th of July it was cloudy in America. A bit annoying, considering it was a huge holiday, but Goshi wasn’t American so he didn’t care as much as others seemed to. He’d get his burger and fries and soda and move on with his day. He’d see Haruhi and Yuzuki, and a few others he’d gotten acquainted with to hang out and maybe go to karaoke or something. But surprisingly enough, he was actually excited for once. It was weird, having your birthday on the same day as the country itself. It just felt like a huge birthday party. Haruhi and Yuzuki wasted no time in pampering him for the first few hours, talking about getting a huge cake and giving him presents- he wasn’t even this spoiled by his parents. Now he was getting his expectations up a little too high, waiting to hear more birthday wishes later in the day. Earlier he got a gift in the mail from his parents with a nice card and some spending money. Yashamaru-san already sent him a message, wishing him well and hoping his studies were going smoothly. Of course with the time difference, he received the text while he was asleep, responding with a thanks many hours later.

He expected other messages to filter in throughout the day. He could never be sure of people’s schedules and how they worked around with the timezones- but he knew it was getting to be the evening in Japan. Speaking of which, he hadn’t been getting as many texts from Yuta and Kento and a few others at Bambi recently. They were probably really busy, especially with new talent auditions going on.

At 8:00AM, it was 9:00PM in Japan. He had a short message from his parents saying happy birthday again and asking if he got their gift. He replied with yes, and another thanks. It was nice of them to consider the time difference and wait until that long at night.

At 10:00AM it was 11:00PM in Japan. His friends were probably asleep by now. It was still early for him, he could wait if they were waiting.

At 5:00PM it was 6:00AM on the 5th in Japan. He doubted any of his friends woke up that early on a free day.

At 8:00PM it was 11:00AM on the 5th in Japan. Goshi pocketed his phone and went out for a birthday dinner with his friends. He could check later.

At 10:00PM it was 11:00AM in Japan on the 5th in Japan.

On the 5th at 12:00AM it was 1:00PM in Japan.

…

On the 5th at 4:00AM it was 5:00AM in Japan.

…

…

On the 5th at 8:00AM it was 9:00PM in Japan.

…

…

…

On the 5th at 11:00AM it was the 6th in Japan.

On the 5th at 11:00AM, Goshi decided to stop waiting.

On the 5th at 11:30AM, Goshi was still waiting and he couldn’t understand why when he wanted to stop.

On the 5th at 11:35AM, Goshi decided his friends forgot about him.

On the 5th at 12:00PM, Goshi was internally falling apart. No one detected this besides Haruhi and Yuzuki, and they went out for lunch together.

 

On the 31st at 11:59PM, Goshi decided he didn’t have real friends in Japan anymore.

What did he expect, after being gone for two years?

People to remember him? People to remember one specific date out of the year out of so many other dates, even if they remembered it in the past? People to at least text him a ‘happy belated’ message sometime during the month?

Yeah. Right.

He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. He should’ve expected to be alone this year. He should’ve expected everyone to make new friends when after all, he was only friends with them for a few years himself.

On the 1st of August at 12:00am, Goshi let a few tears escape him, still alone.


	2. america.

A new semester started for Goshi in September. By then his bitter feelings had mainly washed over, except for the times when Haruhi and Yuzuki reminded him of Bambi every once in a while. Sometimes he forgot the twins were in the same training program as him until they mentioned Akane and another kid named Miroku that Goshi may have said like, ten lines to in total. Well, it’s not like he was planning to befriend the kid anyway. Especially not if Miroku had any association with the others Goshi used to be close to.

On top of his English studies, Goshi took music based classes. Specifically music theory, digital audio production, and a class slot dedicated to band practice. Music theory and production were definitely the most important to him as a composer- he’d always wanted to learn about recording instruments and mixing tracks just so that he could make his own songs. His passion showed his hard work, and he managed to impress his teachers so much that they wanted to send his tracks out to student award programs. He complied of course- someone had to appreciate what he was doing, and what he was doing was damn good for a 16-year-old. He always left those classes proud, knowing that the teachers appreciated having him and enjoyed teaching him more than what was expected.

But the band teacher hated him. At first Goshi thought he was just strict, but over several weeks he realized that the man really had it out for him on top of just being a strict asshole. Goshi got called out during practice sessions a lot, despite always answering questions correctly and following instructions. The teacher knew he was an international student- that was probably it. He knew Goshi would have a tougher time talking back to him… or maybe he was just plain racist. That theory was completely plausible. It pissed Goshi off until no end just thinking about it, but he was really trying not to give the guy any more reasons to beat on him.

And his instructor always had this thing about being so… physical. Grabbing peoples hands to reposition them, moving their shoulders or backs for better playing posture, just nudging them into a better stance… Goshi always wanted to yell not to touch him, not to touch his papers, and especially not to touch his guitar. That was precious to him. But nobody else in the band spoke up about it. They were scared. Goshi couldn’t blame them. If he wasn’t already stressed out and irritated about other things, he’d probably just choose to keep his mouth shut forever. But every time the teacher drew out the question “Do you understand?” to Goshi specifically, he resisted gritting his teeth against the harsh “Yes” that scraped past his lips. He wasn’t a dumbass. He knew English really damn well from immersing himself for the past two years.

It was a good thing he only had to deal with this man twice a week.

Later in the semester, one of his compositions won an award. His production advisor informed him with a warm smile, and Goshi smiled back with absolute delight. Maybe having a great semester was his trade-off for having a terrible summer. Maybe having a shitty band teacher was made up by doing well in these more important classes.

Students in the production class overheard the news and congratulated him with genuine awe. Not many students from around this area won any of those awards, he was told. So it felt good. It felt good to be appreciated.

The next day Goshi walked into the band room to be congratulated by another student, and they actually had a nice chat before their hell started.

“What are you all chattering about? Huh?” Their teacher aggressively asked, walking to the front of the room.

“…”

“Nobody wants to explain why it was so loud in here?”

“Goshi won an award for a song he made.”  Goshi’s classmate fessed up. It couldn’t be helped.

The teacher looked at him with an accusatory stare. “Did he now? Why don’t you play it for us so we can take a look at the score?”

Goshi slowly got up from his seat when his classmate shot him an apologetic look. He shook his head to tell her it wasn’t her fault, and he opened the file over the projector to play the track from the speakers.

Once it was finished, Goshi’s teacher decided that he was going to criticize every single staff of the composition, making Goshi scream internally. He didn’t ask for criticism. He didn’t ask for the weird edits his teacher played back on the piano. He won a freaking medal for this, and he didn’t want to start hating his own hard work because this filthy man tainted it with his scrubby hands. Goshi stared off into the classroom wall, zoning out so that he wouldn’t have to hear any more.

“Well, I suppose this is to be expected of a 16-year-old kid, you’re no professional by any means. I just don’t understand why they handed over the gold to you instead of an American student.” Goshi heard his instructor grumble over his scattered thoughts. Ah. So he  _ was _ racist.

That was the last straw.

“What would you know, you’re just a high school band teacher,” Goshi spoke up, pulling his USB out of the computer.

His instructor looked at him, shocked, probably not expecting Goshi to comprehend anything he said. The kids sitting around the room stared at him with pleasant surprise, mentally cheering for his bravery to talk back to the demon. The classmate he sat next to slipped him a secret high five, smiling.

Somehow, Goshi became more popular just from that feat alone. The respect people gave him was pretty nice. Definitely much nicer than being swarmed with attention. Validation was all he needed. But there was no way in hell he was going to get off easy during practice after making that remark. Goshi couldn’t decide if he regretted speaking up or wholly enjoyed it.

As expected, he was met with trouble. Goshi was sure that the band teacher was Satan himself as he tried to do anything that would ruin Goshi’s reputation and make him out to be the stupid study-abroad student. From that point on, he would ask to see students composition work and tear them apart, especially when it came to Goshi. Satan held nothing back except for a kind personality and sympathy.

There were so, so many times he considering quitting. Honestly, Goshi didn’t need to be in band- other students relied on the elective more because of their school requirements, but being there had no effect on Goshi’s educational standing. The only reason he didn’t up and ditch was because he felt that would be like handing over a victory to the teacher. Not that they were in any sort of competition, but that wasn’t to say that Goshi didn’t have a tendency to be fueled by pure spite. Obviously the man had tenure or something, the administration did nothing to help when they received complaints from the students after such harsh treatment. Didn’t even send out a warning. Some school Goshi chose to go to- he really would have to stick it out on his own. Besides, the other kids in the class needed him to stand up for them. He wasn’t going to leave them to suffer alone when he’d been with them through all the shit they’d been given so far. They needed a hero, and he’d be one.

It was noticeable at first glance, but Goshi’s guitar was really scuffed and dinged up. It fell out out of tune easily because it was a few years old and he didn’t know how to take care of it properly when he first received it- not to mention it wasn’t anything fancy. It was actually really cheap, and a little small now that he thought about it, but it did its job for being the first guitar a reckless kid like him could get. But just because it was banged up didn’t mean it wasn’t important to him- nobody seemed to understand that and always asked why he didn’t get a new, better quality guitar. That subject followed him across the ocean.

When his teacher manhandled his guitar, Goshi glared at his wrinkled hands with so much concentration that he hoped he’d gain laser vision out of sheer willpower.

“This guitar is so dirty and small. It’s like a child’s toy. Are you a child?” 

Goshi didn’t answer.

“Go get a new guitar. You can’t be playing with this anymore.”

“...”

“A band isn’t a playhouse. Everyone else has high quality instruments. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Sure.”

He wasn’t going to get a new one. Didn’t need one, didn’t want one. He didn’t have the extra spending money for that anyway— he only got enough allowance once a month for food, school supplies, and other small leisure activities. Goshi wasn’t about the call his parents and ask for more cash either when they spent enough sending him overseas. His instructor could suck it up.

He showed up for the next few sessions with his same old guitar. The teacher kept sending dirty glances his way, making Goshi simmer in annoyance under his skin.

“Didn’t I tell you to get rid of that thing? You cannot play in a proper band with a toy.”

“I don’t get it. It works fine.”

“Look at it, it’s falling apart. You spend more time adjusting it than playing it. Get rid of that guitar, or you won’t be allowed in practice.”

“Sure.”

He still didn’t. He supposed he was given one or two more class days as leeway to buy a new one, but Goshi didn’t even attempt to look up the closest music shop. 

“Do not make me get rid of that by force. I said you wouldn’t be allowed to play, and I intend to follow through on that statement.”

“Okay.” Goshi tried to answer nonchalantly, but his lips twitched.

The teacher fumed. “You don’t actually understand what I’m telling you, do you?”

“I do.”

“Then why won’t you do it?”

“This guitar is important and I can’t get another one.”

“It doesn’t matter how important it is if you can’t play it properly!”

“I can.” Goshi shot back, frustrated. Did this guy not hear him say he couldn’t buy another guitar anyway?

“You can’t! Put it away and sit in the back until the hour is over.”

“I can play.” He didn’t care too much about practicing before, but now that he was being accused of having no skill he wasn’t giving going to give in to his teachers unjustifiable directions.

“You really like to talk back, don’t you kid? I’ll take this to the front myself then so that you get it. Hand it over.” The teacher held his palm out expectedly. All the other students had stopped what they were doing to watch the tense exchange.

“No. I can play it.”

“It wasn’t a question.”

“...”

“Well?”

“No,” Goshi said, louder this time.

“Then, force my hand will you!” And the hellspawn himself gripped Goshi’s guitar by the neck to pull it out from his lap. It took a split second for Goshi to register what was happening before he gasped in shock and grabbed onto the very end of the guitars body. 

“You can’t take it!”

“I said this wasn’t your choice! If you want it back that badly you can wait until the end of class!”

“No! Leave that!” Goshi argued with a rough tone, anger clouding his ability to speak.

His teacher pulled at the neck. Goshi tried to pull back. A few of the students looked between them, scared. Someone took out their phone. Someone else said “go, Goshi!” quietly in the background.

In another harsh tug, Goshi was jolted forward, and a tuning pin was pulled out of the headstock from underneath the teachers grip. Goshi watched it hit the floor and bounce with a metallic clanging sound.

“You’re breaking it.” Goshi started, eyes flaring.

“It’s already on the verge of falling apart. This is what I’ve been saying to you for almost three weeks now.” He tugged at it again, not bothering to care about the pin and the others coming loose.

“But you’re the one breaking it so I can’t play it.”

“It was going to break the next time you picked it up. Realize I’m doing you a favor.”

Where Goshi’s hands furiously gripped the edges of the guitar, a fissure appeared in the wood from where there was already a bruise over the grain. His eyes burned with angry tears now. He was so fucking mad. Just because he was 16 didn’t mean anyone could treat him this way! No one had the right to take away his belongings, especially so forcefully!

“You don’t understand.” Goshi hissed through clenched teeth. The crack grew bigger. But he couldn’t let go of the guitar and let this piece of shit win.

His teacher scoffed, looking down on him with that condescending look that Goshi was, unfortunately, no stranger to. “What don’t I understand? You’re the one disrespecting me when you’re in no place to. Is this how you acted back home? Are your friends as childish as you?”

“Don’t talk about my friends. They…” Goshi trailed off, his throat tight. What was he going to say…?

“They what? Speak up.” A guitar string finally popped off of the fretboard from where the bolt loosened on the headstock. Goshi cringed.

“…”

“So I’m right. Perhaps I will let you deal with this after all, since you insist on wasting everyone's practice time with this foolishness. You’ll be hearing from the office later.” In the moment that Goshi was distracted and briefly loosened his hold, his teacher forcefully pushed the guitar back towards him, but it slipped down and out of his arms way. Goshi flinched, unable to dive for it in time, watching the weakened edge of the body smack against the tiled floor first, before it bounced and slid on the floor a few feet away.

“No..!” Goshi kneeled and flipped it over in a hurry to see the damage. His precious guitar was fractured all the way across the wood, the edges of the body panels disconnecting from each other with one dented. This was definitely done on purpose, the way his teacher had shoved it back at him. Even if Goshi was holding it firmer, it still would have soared from his grasp with the way they were positioned. 

There was no way he could fix this, let alone find someone else that would be willing to. His teacher permanently destroyed one of his most precious belongings to him.

Something inside Goshi finally snapped and all he saw was the red static clouding his vision. He picked up the guitar from the neck, wooden splinters and metallic strings hanging off of it, and gripped it tightly across the fretboard with both hands.

“You... don’t fucking get it! Ashuu and Aizome gave me this guitar!” He screamed while standing up again. Taking a step forward, Goshi swung the guitar with so much rage-filled vigor, like a metal baseball bat intending to hit a home run— except instead of smacking a ball, he snapped his instructors rib in half with a piercing wooden crack and the momentum of the swing brought the guitar body to a stop at the podium, where the rest of the wood shattered upon impact.

He stood in front of the classroom, looming above his instructor curled over in deep, bruising pain, with a sharpened length of the ebony fretboard still gripped tightly in his calloused hand.

…It was funny. Months ago he wouldn’t have remembered how valuable his instrument was in memories and emotions. He thought he had given up on Yuta and Kento and the others. He thought he would keep playing his guitar without a shred of sentimentality haunting the back of his mind until he did actually buy a higher class one.

But being put through hell seemed to prove how much he actually missed them. Maybe he was only pretending he didn’t care this whole time, and the resentful emotions he wore were only a façade.

The school was put on lock down for the next three hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all know something went down while Goshi was in America but BPRO won't tell us what- I figured something happened during his study abroad since he had to have been younger before returning to Bambi.  
> We've all hated shitty teacher we've wanted out of our life, I think. The other day I read an askreddit thread about horrible experiences with teachers that hit home for me, too. It's here if you'd like to see it: https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/bu766u/what_is_your_most_traumatic_experience_with_a/  
> I think going through that thread is what ultimately pushed me to write about Goshi. So thanks, Reddit.


	3. Chapter 3

Goshi was expelled for assaulting a teacher. Everyone who witnessed him breaking the band advisors’ rib (or… ribs? He heard some different reports…) with his guitar tried to speak up with claims of self-defense, but it didn’t take away from the fact that Goshi put the man in the hospital, not to mention that somehow, word quickly spread of a classmate having a video of his violent reaction and that was enough proof for the administration of his actions once they managed to coax it out of the girl. They reasoned that they were afraid he would have more episodes like that and didn’t want to endanger the rest of the staff and student body.

Haruhi desperately wanted to call bullshit, but Goshi accepted it. He was too drained of the situation to care much anymore, and it’s not as though the higher-ups were going to change their decision based on a fraction of the students. Goshi was lucky enough he wasn’t getting into any legal trouble, quite honestly- multiple claims of self-defense on his part and the other student witnesses managed to get him off the hook when the police came around to investigate during the lockdown. Well, some fake crying and talk about racism did the trick too. Hopefully, the band instructor wouldn’t still try to take the situation to court and got some sense knocked into him with the beat down.

Before he officially left the school, Goshi said goodbye to Haruhi and Yuzuki, who were entirely depressed even though they knew that they would see him when they returned to Japan from their own program. He patted their heads and wished them luck at school.

In the hallway, his bandmates crowded him with goodbyes and small gifts and words of heartfelt appreciation encased in homemade chocolate chip cookies. Despite being completely prepared to up and leave after emptying his locker, he became emotional all of a sudden. It was sad. Leaving these people he resonated with for almost an entire year. Maybe he could have become better friends with them had that class not been an absolute nightmare of seclusion.

But to his surprise, they asked if they could message him online, make a group chat or something on their phones. The only app Goshi knew of was JOIN though, unfamiliar with western social apps.

The next thing he knew, everyone was downloading JOIN and sharing QR codes to add each other as friends. One of the boys made a group chat with everyone in it, and Goshi’s phone screen lit up with a stream of dumb stickers. A melancholic smile passed over his face knowing that he’d never see these kids’ faces again, but was genuinely thankful that they considered him an important enough part of their lives to want to talk to him through text messages. His voice caught in his throat as he said his final goodbyes to the group in person.

He visited his production teacher on his way out of the building just to give his thanks and to tell him that he appreciated the class. His instructor patted Goshi on the back, telling him that it was a joy to teach him, and had he been in the band room that day he would have vouched for Goshi as a witness, knowing for all of these years that the band teacher was a despicable piece of shit who shouldn’t have been let around kids. That got a small laugh out of Goshi. He wasn’t the only one thinking about that daily apparently. As a last send off, his production instructor told Goshi that he’d keep an eye out for Goshi’s big break as an artist in the future.

Goshi walked out of the building with a warm feeling spreading through his chest.

Sure, being kicked out was shitty- but at least he now felt validation that he made the right choices in fighting back. He only hoped that Satan’s replacement wasn’t another ugly spawn of hell.

His parents didn’t know what to do with him after the program manager informed them that Goshi was to be sent back to Japan early. They knew he was passionate about what he was learning. They held a lot of trust in his decisions, and despite being incredibly stubborn sometimes, he was a respectful kid through and through. But to deck his teacher with an intention so strong that it shattered his only guitar? Something had to have set Goshi off. His parents had seen him get mad before, but never _this_ mad.

They heard both sides of the story; the administrations and Goshi’s. Goshi tried his best to convince them that his teacher was basically abusive and broke his guitar before he himself demolished it. He forwarded the video that he got from his classmate upfront, and yes, his parents saw the teacher yelling and pulling the guitar before it was thrown down and Goshi attacked him. But at the same time… what the administration said was logical as well, that being that they were afraid Goshi would have more harmful outbursts in the future and did not want that to be impressed upon the other students. So, they supposed he would have to be given some form of punishment when he got back to Japan. Although, they couldn’t really think of one when their kid was already pretty shielded. Maybe they’d take away his phone or something.

At the airport, he looked particularly regretful. His mother immediately noticed he arrived without his guitar case towering over his back, making Goshi look smaller than he usually was and somehow… a little weaker. He stayed quiet for the entirety of the ride home, probably anxious about a harsh scolding that never came. He was fortunate to have parents that understood the differences in the education system between Japan and America. They knew what the band instructor did to their child was messed up, and were particularly upset knowing that they entrusted him to this exchange program only to have him treated as a problem. Sending him to America was probably a mistake, they thought. He should have stayed at home. He’d have done much better just staying with Bambi.

Goshi didn’t get a bad lecture at home. His father mainly told him he was always hot-headed and quick to act without thinking, but should start watching his temper or he’ll get into more trouble in the future. Goshi already knew that though. He held off on attacking the man for weeks before he snapped- not that he was going to talk back to his parents. So, he accepted his father’s words and the one month of being grounded. Goshi figured he deserved that much, surprised his punishment was so... normal. He did also get his phone usage restricted, and his parents said he could only get a new guitar after his one month was up. Yeah, that made enough sense.

But he had to go back to Bambi.

He completely forgot about that, admittedly.

Goshi paled when his parents reminded him and followed up the conversation by informing him that they had already contacted Yashamaru-san about his return to the company. How could he have forgotten, even knowing that he only met the Teramitsu twins through their connection with Bambi? No… this meant that he would have to face all those he broke connections with so many months ago. Was he nervous, or angry? His heart was pounding wildly just at the thought of stepping foot back into the dance studio with so much attention drawn to him, the least of his desires right now. But… what if the reason Yuta and Kento and Akane and the others stopped talking to him was because they grew to despise him? Yes, Goshi was temperamental at times- he knew that and resented it. He got angry far too easily but he had hoped that by being in a new environment, his character would change and no one would ever suggest anger management to him again. And he thought he was doing pretty well for basically two years, up until he lost his cool.

He scoffed though. How would his friends have known he changed overseas if they couldn’t interact with each other face to face? Stupid, he thought. They likely hated him by now. They were all two years older and older meant being more mature and being more mature meant remembering your past and how some people were actually complete pieces of shit in retrospect. It only made sense, considering they were the only friends he’d ever made. There was a reason he had none before Bambi.

He curled into his neglected bed, anxiety crowding him in his loneliness. The dark swallowed him much, much slower than his thoughts did.

And yet somehow, Monday came far too quickly.

* * *

Goshi stood in front of the Bambi building with shaking hands. Somehow, he felt like he was a stranger to this place after two years. Something in his gut was telling him to run away and never let these people see him ever again. His body was lighter without his guitar case, the door frame was lower than he remembered it being, and the nauseous pounding of his heart made the melting static in his head so much worse when he couldn’t immediately conjure any reasonable explanations for these changes.

When did he become so scared? When did he become such a joke? He felt pathetic, unable to have broken past this barrier of horror even after so many days of thinking at home.

Goshi tugged his hood back onto his head, and pocketed his clenched fists. Maybe a walk-around the area would help him get rid of this hallow feeling. He’d return after a few minutes to face his irrational fears...

Or maybe he’d just run away, like the coward he probably was. No- the coward he _knew_ he was. Leaving Bambi for two years so that he didn’t have to be a lower idol trainee anymore, giving up when the school in America kicked him out…

Not throwing away that guitar earlier, because the sentimental feelings he always wanted to forget still dominated his emotions, and he let himself be strung along with them instead of fighting them back.

He was a coward. Standing in front of this building, he was sure of that.

Whatever confidence he used to have seemed to have been left behind in America.

But he wasn’t going to cry now. He was going to force his body inside the damn building no matter how sluggish it became. Wasn’t that the first step to fixing himself, after all?

It took him two more minutes to walk through the glass doors.

it took him another three to figure out where he was going on the floor map. spaces were swapped, apparently.

It took him a good extra four to find Yashamaru-san’s office, noticeably renovated.

It took him five after that to almost have a panic attack when Yashamaru-san exclaimed he would re-introduce Goshi as a returnee in front of the other kids. His heart rate sped up while Yashamaru-san walked him out of the office and into the main practice room, quicker and quicker until his vision became spotty and he couldn’t really tell if he was walking anymore because suddenly he couldn’t feel his legs and his brain just malfunctioned to now contain a deep nothingness and Yashamaru-san was still talking to him but he couldn’t tell what he was saying and-

Goshi snapped back to reality, his vision filling with the light of a not-so-familiar dance studio.

He stood at the doorway, frozen, with Yashamaru-san walking in front of him to garner everyone’s attention.

“Everyone~! I have a surprise for you all!” Yashamaru san said with a bright smile, clapping his hands together. “We have a returnee from America!” and he motioned at Goshi to step further into the room.

It took three very slow steps for someone to scream Goshi’s nickname and run to the doorway.

Of all the things he expected to happen, one was definitely not getting the air knocked out of his lungs. He almost collapsed under the weight of a taller boy practically jumping on him and it absolutely didn’t help that his legs were already weakened from anxiety.

“Gouchin, you’re back!” Yuta said, wrapping him in a tight hug and swinging him side to side. Now Goshi was tripping over his feet. “You’re really back!”

“Wh-What the fuck...!?” Goshi broke into a cold sweat, feeling a wave of fear run down his entire body.

“Wow, you learned some bad language in America!” Yuta pulled back from the crushing hug with a smile, and finally let Goshi get a good look at him. 

He was... tall. And his hair was longer, and his face had lost just a bit of that baby fat that made him always look so soft and fluffy. His freckles were much more prominent against the pink undertones of his pale skin.

“A…shuu?” Goshi finally spoke up, the word leaving his mouth before his mind realized. 

“Mm-hmm! It’s me!” Yuta bounced on his feet and giggled. Oh yeah, his voice seemed a little lower too...

“...You’re different.” Goshi was still sputtering nonsense.

Yuta continued laughing. “You’ve changed too! It’s been two years!”

“Yuta, give him some space.” Another figure approached, his voice silky smooth.

“But KenKen, it’s been so long~!” 

Kento came into view, and Goshi almost didn’t recognize him. Kento’s hair didn’t look like that before. Kento’s face was never done up like that before. Kento was not that tall before.

Kento... was not this attractive before.

Goshi’s face contorted. “Uh...?”

Kento walked up and smiled sheepishly at the shortest of the group. “Hi Goshi, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Aizome.” Goshi exhaled harshly, staring at him.

“Hey, what’s that about?” Kento chuckled. “Talk about a warm welcome." 

"I guess.”

Soon others were starting to crowd him as well, Akane being almost as energetic as Yuta, followed by Hikaru, Ryuji, Kazuna... 

Why were they all acting like this?

Was he supposed to be happy they were still being chummy, or disappointed that they didn’t recognize their disregard for him for almost two years?

Everything was so different. No one told him what was changing around here, including the change in his friends. The whole building turned into a maze to him. He had to wait to recognize the ones he used to be close with. Some of them he didn’t remember how to talk to, because their personalities flipped within that time period. How was he supposed to talk to these people he barely knew anymore? When they left him in the dark, now making him feel like a stranger? For two goddamn years?

He stayed relatively quiet during greetings, extreme conflict inset in his brain. Not a single apology for cutting him off met his ears. 

“What the hell...” Goshi muttered under his shaking breath, his shoulders tensing in discomfort.

“Gouchin, are you okay? You look tired, and you haven’t really been talking.” Yuta observed, almost frowning.

Goshi knit his eyebrows together, growing more frustrated by the second. “I don’t understand...”

“Goshi?” Kento asked.

“Why are you all treating me like this?” Goshi’s voice grew louder, his tone raw with anger.

The others in the crowd looked at him in surprise.

“-When you stopped talking to me after just a few months!? Were you just messing around with me!?”

“G-Gouchin...?”

“Did you think I didn’t notice when you stopped responding? I knew you all forgot about me! You faked me out! This whole time...!” Goshi’s voice started cutting off in his outburst. “Everything is different here! You’re all... I don’t know any of you!”

“Goshi—"

Goshi clenched his fists and ran out of the room, his eyes burning as they tried not to spill any tears. Maybe it was a good thing he broke that guitar after all. The wooden splinters in his heart were finally giving him chest pain.

* * *

Kento was mortified. Yuta stood in shock and the rest of the group went silent.

Kento knew what he was talking about. How he stopped messaging Goshi once he decided it was best he didn’t know of his now hectic life. How it would have been entirely too embarrassing for one of his closest friends to know his personal secrets, even though three of them already did. Finally looking back on it, that was probably an awful move. There was no way that Goshi wasn’t asking himself what he did wrong, if anyone hated him, if… he was easy to forget about. Stupid. So, so stupid.

While Kento was able to get along with others quite well despite his horrendous classroom setting (now he knew it was just a chunk of pathetic bullies), he remembered that Goshi was always kept very isolated. Since they first met, Goshi always preferred to do things alone- Kento never pried, but he figured something in Goshi’s past had smacked him down to that level. He never mentioned having other acquaintances or family. Never talked about having other hobbies, or trusted others with his most important belongings. He had only a select few people he called friends, and whom he actually trusted to the fullest he possibly let himself.

Kento... broke that trust. He isolated Goshi again. When he had finally come out of his shell in the past few years- finally trusted him and Yuta and a few others scattered throughout Bambi- the sudden change in atmosphere was probably too much for him to handle after just getting comfortable.

Shifting his glance, Kento saw Yuta looking incredibly upset. In all honesty, Yuta forgot. He knew Yuta forgot. After Yuta’s phone broke, it took him a few weeks to get a new one on his parents’ disapproval, and he never thought to ask for Goshi’s email address again. He never received any of Goshi’s later messages because he just... forgot.

“Oh... no...” Kento heard Akane whisper next to him. Sinister regret bubbled in his stomach, threatening to leave his throat.

One thing Kento did immediately notice was that Goshi wasn’t lugging around the guitar case he was almost never seen without. The guitar he and Yuta gifted to Goshi for his birthday so many years ago. Even though it was cheap, Goshi loved it like it was the only present he had ever received in his entire life and always carried it around the building. Except for today.

Yeah.

They fucked up.


	4. forgiveness.

Yuta was quiet for the remainder of the day, lost in his swirling void of self-deprecating thoughts. His movements during dance practice were lagging and his voice came out weakened during vocal exercises, so Yashamaru-san let him have a break.

In fact, the entire atmosphere of the group was significantly dampened by the event with Goshi earlier. Kento was spacing out and fidgeting, becoming less and less aware of his surroundings. Akane seemed to be moping with a frustrated pout on lips, and Yuta... well, Yuta was close to tears at this point.

It was his fault for never texting Goshi again after breaking his phone- he knew that much, and his forgetfulness was proving once more to be the bane of his existence. And he also knew that Goshi had to have been particularly shaken to have run away from the building like that, with a completely broken look plastered across his face– one Yuta never thought he would ever see.

He had to fix this, but what was he going to do? All he could think to do was apologizing, but he didn’t even know if Goshi was going to come back to Bambi again. At least, not anytime soon. And really, it would be more meaningful if he approached Goshi first instead of waiting until he showed up himself. Because that would be mirroring his initial return completely, and it would likely break Goshi’s heart even more, not that it wasn’t already shattered into a hundred pieces.

It seemed Kento had the same thought process, and later tapped Yuta on the shoulder to ask if he wanted to visit Goshi’s home to make up for their mistakes. Yuta agreed to it, nodding.

The problem was that nobody knew where Goshi lived.

Goshi never once invited anyone over, and he lived in a different direction than Kento and Yuta, as they so noticed during their brief walks home together.

“Goshi’s house...” Akane tilted his head, “Maybe we can ask Yashamaru-san for his address.”

Even though Yashamaru-san was reluctant to give out others information, he trusted the three of them enough for a friendly visit. Somehow, he was both surprised and unsurprised that they had no idea where his house was. He knew all four of them were close, but it was in character for Goshi to hide himself.

At half-past six, the trio stood in front of Goshi’s house gate, wondering if he was even home. All of them were too nervous to walk up to the door and knock until about two minutes later when Akane just ran up the step and slammed his hand over the bell with an anxious exhale, and 30 seconds later Goshi’s mother answered the ring.

When Yuta explained what happened with Goshi earlier to her, all she could do was smile sadly and nod. She knew what happened. Goshi was apparently home but he locked himself in his room hours ago, which was shortly preceded by a call from Yashamaru-san expressing his concerns. He had thrown his bag against the foyer wall and ran up the staircase sniveling, not even bothering to tell anyone he came home. She was thankful the three kids showed up if only to try to get him out of his room- nothing she or her husband were doing was proving effective against his shrouding barrier of darkened clouds. Goshi was respectful enough to guests to at least greet them if they traveled upstairs… she hoped.

And so, she led them to their second floor. Goshi’s house was very small but in a cute, cozy way. It was quite western-style and very well tidied. He had no siblings, so only he and his parents occupied the quiet household, alongside a handful of plants. A few vacation photos decorated the walls, and while mostly plain, it resonated a warm and inviting atmosphere. Even when Yuta stood in front of Goshi’s bedroom, he didn’t feel such a chaotic aura as he did while at Bambi. It made him think… everything might just go fine.

Goshi’s mother rapped at the door with her knuckles, but with how quiet the room was the only thing to be heard in response was a short echo.

Several uncomfortable moments of silence passed. Akane rocked on his toes. Kento pulled at his sleeves.

She knocked again, speaking in a voice that sounded both gentle and stern. “Goshi? Your friends are here.”

Friends. Her voice resounded in Yuta’s head, over and over. Did Goshi even consider them to be friends now? Or did he destroy that idea two years ago? Maybe he didn’t know who she was talking about and didn’t want to bother opening the door.

Again, his mother tried. “Goshi.”

Yuta stood next to her, breaking into an anxious sweat. Maybe Goshi was asleep or listening to music. There was no way he could know if Goshi was ignoring them altogether. The seconds that ticked by only seemed to create a deeper silence, and Yuta hated it. All he wanted to do was say sorry as soon as he possibly could, to erase that shattered expression from his mind. He looked at Kento and Akane warily, but they seemed just as apprehensive as he was.

Too many seconds had passed by this point, and Yuta couldn’t take it anymore. Forget the warm and inviting atmosphere– he was being greeted by a stone-cold energy. All of a sudden, he was knocking hard on the door himself, speaking out in a voice he didn’t realize would be shaking so much.

“Gouchin? It’s Yuta, can we talk?”

Maybe it was how broken he sounded, but Goshi’s mother frowned and looked extremely apologetic, not that it was any of her fault that her son wouldn’t answer. She looked as though she almost wanted to give up, knowing that this effort would prove to be just as fruitless as the attempts she had made earlier. But something kept telling Yuta to wait and keep trying. Maybe Goshi would open the door, if only to tell them to go away. And Yuta would keep trying. And he would still keep trying.

“I’m also here.”

He turned, surprised to hear Kento raise his voice after so long. But the look Kento wore was serious. The most serious he had seen his friend look in quite a while if he was being honest… almost like he was wearing his sense of responsibility on his worn-out sleeve.

“And me, too.” The last of the trio followed up, and Yuta’s heartfelt a tad bit lighter than it did a minute earlier.

But they were still standing in front of a blank, manila shaded door. Yuta stared at a stray music note sticker on the wall that was half rubbed away, listening to the static in the air surrounding him. It was probably around 6:45 PM now. That meant 15 minutes of no progress since they first stepped in front of the house’s gate.

15 minutes seemed to be just enough, though.

None of them heard the empty footsteps that approached from the other side of the door, but they did finally hear a lock click, with what seemed like a hint of hesitation before the knob was finally turned.

Yuta exhaled in relief, also not realizing he was holding his breath for so long. Laying his eyes upon Goshi as the other slowly cracked open his door, he noticed how dark Goshi’s eyes looked, and how his hair was messed up probably from laying on his bed, and how his skin looked dull and drained of life as if he had been refusing food and water. 

“Gouchin…!” Yuta started, frowning a bit.

Goshi let the door open only enough to show his person. “… Ashuu.”

“Gouchin, can we please all talk?” Yuta’s voice was still weak, “Together?”

“I think there’s been a lot of miscommunication.” Akane pitched in.

“We want to apologize as well. There’s a good deal of things we should tell you.” Kento added.

Goshi flicked heavy glances between the three of them, and then his mother, who was happy to have seen him emerge from his sulking for at least a minute.

“Yeah. We can talk.”

* * *

Goshi pushed sheets of papers and pencils and guitar picks off of the small table in the center of his room so that the four of the boys could sit down- Goshi’s mother left them to their own devices, and said she’d come back upstairs a while later with drinks and snacks.

It was still too quiet after they had all settled in. As quickly as the visitor’s confidence had arrived it dissipated, and now there was a very large elephant in the room that they all hoped the next person would address first. In their silence, Yuta’s eyes wandered to the empty guitar stand in the corner of the bedroom, next to a flattened black guitar bag thrown across the floor.

Akane took a deep breath, making the move to speak first. It was only in his compassionate nature to do so. “Goshi… um… I think all three of us want to say sorry.”

“Huh,” Goshi answered in a rough tone, his heavy eyes rising from the table.

“A lot happened since you were gone. We should have kept in touch with you.”

“… A lot happened, huh. Would’ve been nice to know before.”

“I know you think we forgot about you but we really didn’t!”

“That’s hard for me to believe. Everyone stopped talking to me. Like, not even replying to things I sent.”

“Goshi…” Akane didn’t know how to reply to that. He didn’t want to say he too busy to text back, even if it were true. He looked down at himself, disappointed.

Silence overtook the room again as no one spoke.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” Goshi grumbled, tugging the sleeve of his sweater. “You know what sucked? Waiting for someone to remember your birthday. Because that’s what I did. Only my parents and Yashamaru-san said anything to me. I know you all forgot about me.”

Yuta’s eyes widened and he paled. Did he forget Goshi’s birthday? How could he have forgotten? He always celebrated his friends’ special days and he always gave them really obnoxious gifts and _he always said happy birthday to them_. What happened to have made him and everyone forget? His birthday was July… July… July what? No… he really did forget. The gears in his brain slowed to a stop as panic blocked their course.

Akane looked at the other two next to him and attempted to cover. “I-I’m sorry, Goshi, I don’t know what to say other than we were all dealing with our own things—”

Raising his voice, Goshi interrupted the other boy, “It’s not the birthday I’m mad about! I don’t always care about holidays and things like that—but that’s what made it really obvious to me that you didn’t care to talk to me anymore! I was just waiting and hoping someone fucking cared—even the days afterward but nothing! How was I supposed to feel about my only friends cutting me off!?”

“It’s true…! About…” Kento burst out all of a sudden and when Goshi turned to look at him with such an upset frown, his sentence trailed off. He brought his hand to his bangs, pulling at the edge of a lock of hair, and let his voice waver. “About dealing with a lot of things… I-I didn’t tell you what happened here because I was too embarrassed. Even though you’re one of my best friends, I couldn’t get myself to text you anything.”

Goshi looked at Kento with a judgmental expression, almost a scowl. “… Are you going to tell me now?”

Looking down again Kento froze with knit eyebrows. His heart was pounding a mile a minute in his rising anxiety. “Y-yeah.”

The room settled once more. Yuta stared at his nervous friend in concern, almost wanting to talk for Kento himself. But it wasn’t his story to tell.

“I’m…sick.” Kento’s voice was quiet when he decided to talk again. He lowered his head as if to hide.

Goshi’s eyes widened. “…What?”

In response to the other’s concerned voice, Kento’s eyes started blurring with tears. He hated admitting his flaws out loud. He hated having to confess how messed up he was to another person. Speaking aloud was like telling himself he’d never be better- he was still just as ill as before.

“What—what the fuck? You’re sick?” Goshi definitely didn’t look as angry as before, but his voice was still laced with aggression.

“Gouchin—” Yuta tried to interrupt.

“Yeah. I am.” Kento exhaled.

Goshi was wary. He scanned Kento over. “With what?”

“…Eating disorder. I-I made myself throw up a lot.” Disgusting. Goshi was going to think he was disgusting. “And now I have to take a bunch of medicine for anxiety and stress– and I dragged everyone into it. I didn’t want to drag you into it, too.”

“Shit… what the hell…” Goshi sat back again, sighing in distress.

A few moments passed by, with just the sound of Goshi’s desk fan filling the space. Kento sniffled.

“…I wish you told me. That’s the sort of thing I wish I knew!” Goshi mumbled, frustrated both by Kento’s actions and his own. How could he have thought so badly of his friends for so long when one of them was suffering? He could bash his head in over his own idiocy– even if at the same time he was upset by their lack of inclusivity. He really trusted them, but that trust started shattering some time ago.

“I should have told you. You deserved to know. But… I couldn’t do it. Kazuna found me vomiting in the bathroom and since then I’ve been so stuck trying not to hate myself.” Kento forced out of his broken voice.

“How- Why did it happen…? What made you… do that…?” Goshi asked, praying he wasn’t being _too_ invasive.

Kento wiped at his eyes and brought his hand back to see a smudge of black ink across the pads of his fingers… he hoped it wasn’t running down his cheeks. “School. Bullies. You know.”

“Some piece of shit made you do that!?” Goshi gaped in disbelief. How long had Kento been dealing with this for if it ruined him that much? For how long had he been hiding his personal life for?

“They didn’t make me, really, but—I believed them, right? When they called me names and pulled at my hair and clothes… and other things.” He took another shaky breath. “It got to me after so long. I just broke down. And now I have to go to the doctor a lot and it _sucks_ …!”

“…I’m sorry.” Goshi stared at Kento’s fragile form- how he held himself close together and toyed with strands of his styled hair, how he was admittedly thinner, now that Goshi was looking at him properly without running away. It was so obvious with how fidgety Kento was, and the careful actions he took. What an idiot. He wished he could have done something at all for Kento. Anything.

Kento puffed out a laugh. “Heh, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one that’s in this mess, you’re the one that’s upset.”

“No- I- I came back to Bambi and screamed at you- I was so fucking mad and then I find out you’ve been dealing with an illness this entire time?” Goshi ran his hand through his hair. “I think I get it- I get why you didn’t talk to me. I wish you did but maybe it wouldn’t have changed anything after all.”

“Gouchin, we all should have still talked to you though.” Yuta still looked sad, almost like he was going to cry after hearing Kento’s confession. “We should have updated you about home at least, so you wouldn’t feel this way. Actually,” He squirmed in his seat, changing positions. “I broke my phone after a while. And I lost your email address and I didn’t think about getting it again and I’m really, really sorry! I know I’ve always been unreliable and clumsy but when I saw you again this morning I was so happy, I didn’t even think about the time that passed.”

“I didn’t think about sending any messages while things were getting chaotic either. A lot of new people enrolled in Bambi and Harupyon and Yucchi went overseas too, so I had my hands full with training and schoolwork.” Akane bowed his head. “I’m sorry Goshi. You’re still a super important friend, I could never forget about you…!”

Goshi winced, his eyebrows tightening into an unreadable expression. All three of his closest… and really only true friends laid their hearts out onto the table in front of him. This whole situation was just a huge, embarrassing misunderstanding. Internally, he questioned how he let himself become so damn emotional over two years.

But it was only when it came to these three.

“I got it. You all… have your own lives. I was being so selfish expecting you to talk to me. I didn’t want to feel left behind or forgotten when people gave up on me in the past.” He spoke with his head lowered. “But now I guess… I guess I shouldn’t have worried about something like that.”

“It’s not selfish…” Yuta answered.

“It is. It’s stupid.” Goshi spat out.

“It’s not stupid!”

“It is!”  
“It’s not stupid to want your friends to talk to you!” Yuta uncharacteristically raised his voice, making Goshi the smaller of the two. The clock kept ticking.

Yuta calmed down again and shook his head, feeling guilty for yelling. “Gouchin… did you think we really wouldn’t want to talk to you?”

Oh, he thought so many things, and that was only one of them. “I thought you all secretly hated me.”

Akane gasped. “No way…!”

Goshi let out a heavy breath, willing himself to keep it together. “I get angry easily and I’m a pain to deal with and I know it! And I thought maybe… maybe you were glad I was gone. And you didn’t have to talk to me anymore, because that’s how it’s always been. I don’t make any friends and no one wants to talk to me—so why would you?”

“No…” The sadness in Yuta’s speech coated the heavy atmosphere.

“Did you get rid of that guitar we gave you?” Kento suddenly asked, his observation from earlier eating at his mind. “Because you were upset at us?”

“Guitar—” Goshi’s head raised slowly as he processed Kento’s question.

“The one we gave you for your birthday. I noticed you didn’t have it at Bambi and it’s not here, even though you always had it.”

“I noticed that too.” Yuta turned to Kento, nodding his head. “I thought that maybe you just left it at home, but it’s not here at all, so…”

“… I broke it.” Goshi grumbled in response.

“Oh.” Kento’s frown deepened. “On purpose?”

That, Goshi didn’t know how to answer. Yes, he smashed it knowing what was going to happen, but he was also not willingly put in the situation that called for it to be demolished. He didn’t know how to explain this coherently with the hundreds of thoughts occupying his mind.

“Sort of. Like half on purpose, I guess. But,” Goshi paused. “It wasn’t because… I was angry at you guys.”

“I don’t… understand.”

“You know? That guitar was super, super old.” Goshi started. “And my asshole band instructor hated it. He hated it so much he tried to take it from me.”

Yuta’s brow line creased, but he was somewhat relieved to hear Goshi didn’t trash his most sentimental belonging. “Oh no. He confiscated it in America?”

“No. I didn’t let him.” Goshi slipped a weak laugh from how nervous he was. “It- you know, it’s so dumb how I ended up coming home. I was trying so hard to forget things here and be happy over there and then- and then this jerk tries to take that guitar and pull it out of my hands! And I was so pissed,” He paused breathe as his voice started cutting out, “but it made no sense to me how I kept thinking about how important that guitar was even though it was so shoddy, and I thought you guys hated me.”

Yuta smiled, remembering how happy Goshi was to receive their present. He’d wanted a guitar for so long and almost bought one before Yuta and Kento shoved a giant, terribly wrapped box into his hands. “That’s so mean… what happened then?”

Goshi clearly hesitated before answering the other’s question. “I took the guitar and I hit him with it and it broke. And I got kicked out of the school because I broke his rib and he had to go to the hospital.”

Yuta gaped at him. Kento looked at him in shock, and Akane seemed somewhat startled. He wasn’t taken aback as much as the other two, so he continued the conversation. “You broke a teacher’s rib with a guitar!? So that’s why you’re back so early.”

Goshi nodded in response. “I just- I swear I’m not insane- but he picked me out since day one and I put up with the harassment until just a while ago,” He clenched his fists tight against the wooden table, bitter memories flooding into his mind again, “If it wasn’t... if it wasn’t that stupid guitar I wouldn’t have done it. But even though I was trying to forget about everyone– trying to hate everyone– I still wanted to keep it.”

“…Why?” Yuta whispered.

“... Because,” Goshi’s voice finally broke from his stacked emotions while tears welled in his eyes. “I-I think in the end I just really missed everyone.”

“Oh, Gouchin...!” Yuta suddenly cried and stood to walk around the table. He slid down next to Goshi and clamped his arms around the smaller boy, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I missed you! I missed you a whole lot!”

“It doesn’t matter what happened over there, we’re really happy to see you!” Akane followed soon afterward and hugged both Goshi and Yuta, the bottom of the pile struggling to keep a steady posture.

Cursing through clenched teeth, Goshi whimpered. “You guys…! Shit!”

“To me, it sounds like that guy really deserved a broken rib.” Kento sniffled and shuffled over to the rest of the group as well. A light smile was plastered on his lips. “We all messed up a little.”

“Aizome.” Goshi moved out of Yuta and Akane’s hold to face the taller boy.

“It feels kinda normal again, having you back. Maybe it was for the best you got expelled.”

He said that teasingly, but somehow Goshi could tell Kento was being entirely sincere with his words. He liked America, but it did feel better being back home, around people he was already familiar with even if they had changed over the past two years. They were still his friends– the trio took the time to visit him so late in the day just to make up with him. There was no way he couldn’t acknowledge that. If they didn’t care about him, they wouldn’t have bothered coming.

Gently pulling Kento forward, Goshi hugged him. Being the two that were the least physically intimate, Yuta and Akane were surprised Goshi took the initiative to embrace him. “If anyone fucks with you from now on you better tell me, got it? I’ll kill them.”

After a moment of shock, Kento couldn’t help but laugh and wrap his arms around the smaller of the two to reciprocate the hug. “I got it. And same here. I have a keyboard lying around to take a swing with.”

“Perfect.” Goshi let go and sat back once more, but this time with an apologetic smile. “…Sorry for acting like this.”

“We’re sorry, too. We should all catch up and make up for the time, shouldn’t we.”

“So then!” Yuta exclaimed, patting Goshi’s shoulder. “We all forgive each other, right? It’s okay now, right?”

Rolling his eyes, Goshi let himself be shaken with a hidden amusement. “Yeah, yeah. It’s okay now.”

“That’s all there is to it.” Akane smiled and laughed as well now. “I’m glad we got it worked out! We did really miss you, Goshi!”

After a minute, Goshi’s mother knocked at the door with a tray of snacks. The timing was too perfect, so Goshi could only suspect she had heard their conversation… but he didn’t speak anything of it. She looked so relieved to see the kids smiling again, and her son not looking like he was entirely depressed. Leaving them alone to enjoy themselves, she retreated with her own contentment.

“Why don’t you tell us what else happened in America, Goshi? It’s probably a lot different from here!” Akane asked, holding a chip to his mouth.

“It’s pretty different. I don’t know what you want me to talk about.”

“Tell us about your shitty teacher,” Kento said.

“Oh, I can tell you a whole fucking lot about that for sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was busy with work and then went on vacation but I arrive with a new chapter! Please remember that I'm making up all of this backstory. Like I have no idea if Goshi is an only child or if his parents are nice. Thanks for the backstory BPRO I really love it :')


	5. beat.

Yuta was the first to suggest shopping for a new guitar, to which Goshi had to sadly turn down after admitting he was grounded and was only allowed to travel to Bambi if he were to be out– but the thought of picking out a new guitar with his friends warmed his heart enough to look forward to their trip to the music center.

After an awkward apology several days later, Goshi was welcomed back to Bambi with a room full of inviting smiles, and their practice continued from there. Akane formally introduced Goshi to Miroku, who was supposedly his best friend. The boy was three years younger than them, so it made sense why he hadn’t spoken to Miroku as much before, what with the training divisions and groupings. He did, however, notice how perfectly Akane and Miroku clicked together through all of their interactions. What was amazing was how hyper Akane was compared to Miroku’s calm and collected nature, and yet they still meshed with ease. Goshi felt a pang of what he hoped was not envy.

Every day Goshi would wake up, go to Bambi for about eight hours, head home to eat dinner, and then hide himself in his bedroom. It wasn’t like he was being made to stay in his room while being grounded, but… he had nothing to do. Except for maybe practice that dance they were learning at Bambi in front of his mirror. He didn’t want to do that after doing it for eight hours though, mainly because he wasn’t huge on dancing anyway and the dance he was learning was stupid. God, idol dances were so stupid. But he was good at them (as he learned through his peers’ compliments) and he doesn’t do anything half-assed, so of course he put the effort into something he thought was so ridiculous.

He just wanted to play guitar again, and write music and maybe buy some new cool equipment he learned about while overseas. He missed the feel of nylon beneath his fingertips and it was weird to not be slinging that black bag over his shoulder every day. In fact, he found himself grabbing at air subconsciously sometimes, before remembering he had nothing to take from the corner of his bedroom anymore. The lack of instrument made a part of him feel empty. As if he treated his case as an extension of himself. On more than one occasion, he had a flash of panic thinking he misplaced it, and then sadly remembered its fate.

Sheet music with pencil scribbles were scattered on his table and desk. Some of them were ripped out of pre-printed music notebooks and some of them were regular sheets of bond paper with staffs hand-drawn on them (using a ruler or otherwise) when the boy clearly didn’t have real stationery on hand. All of the papers were fleeting thoughts, tunes that quickly flew through Goshi’s mind that he managed to catch and not let go of. He wrote them down so as not to forget them later, for whenever he had the chance to actually play them on something and hear whether or not they sounded terrible, or whether or not they were worth hoarding in his top drawer. With how many stacks were piling up, his mother was definitely going to get on his case at some point.

He needed a new guitar soon. As soon as possible. It was killing him inside.

Maybe his parents actually realized that, and cut his punishment by a week. Or maybe they thought there was really, truly no point in having him do nothing around the house for that long. So, he just had two weeks left.

In the meantime, Yuta was acting pretty giddy, quickly recovering from their emotional episode. He hugged Goshi and shook him around whenever the boy came to Bambi. Usually Yuta would act like that— yeah, he was always pretty hyper. But... he had some new ticks that seemed a little off. Or rather, very specific.

Yuta loved sweets with all his sugary pink heart. He hated coffee, and bitter tea, and anything overly sour or salty. Goshi was the complete opposite. Chocolate cake could burn in hell for all he cared. But Yuta would show up with weird health bars or crisps that smelled like java beans and he would offer them to Kento and Goshi instead of pulling out snacks for himself during their breaks. And it kept happening, every day. Kento sometimes took the food that was offered to him to make Yuta happy, but Goshi didn’t know what to think of it. Of course, Yuta still ate them himself, it was his own food after all, and on the occasion, he did have his snack sharing sessions with Akane as they sat outside the building. But that was only occasionally after all, and most of the time Goshi caught him staring at a bag of pita chips in his hands or something like that. Yuta would never in his life eat something so bland.

“Ashuu, what are you doing with stuff like that?” Goshi approached the boy one day and sat down at the table in the seat right next to him.

“Stuff like what?”

“This.” Goshi shook Yuta's lunch bag. “You don’t like this.”

Yuta, in response, bristled and tugged his bag back. “Yeah, I do.”

“You don’t.” Kento chimed in from the seat across. “I thought it was weird.”

“Why’s it weird? You guys eat it.” Yuta was pouting now.

“Yeah maybe we do, but you don’t.”

Goshi started grumbling. “You keep lookin’ like you hate it.”

“Nuh-uh! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Yuta huffed and hurriedly unwrapped a health bar, biting into it aggressively. His face twisted slightly before he willed it to stay straight again. “Shee? Ith peffecwy fine!”

“Yuta...” Kento sighed and lowered his own food. “Why are doing that?”

“‘M not doing anything, though.”

Goshi and Kento exchanged glances before giving up.

* * *

Yuta got a ukulele from his sister and brought it in to Bambi to show Kento and Goshi. He was really excited about it, and maybe Goshi was just as much. It was like having a baby guitar in the room, and he wanted nothing more than to ask Yuta to hold it— but he wasn’t going to, because it was brand new and it was Yuta’s and he didn’t want to look that desperate at only a week left for his punishment. He’d get his guitar soon. He’s survived this long, he kept telling himself.

Needless to say, when Yuta asked Goshi to teach him some chords, Goshi jumped at the opportunity. Sure, he only really played Guitar, but he knew enough about the differences between the two instruments to at least show Yuta some basic positions, or figure them out for himself first. Yuta watched Goshi’s uncharacteristic smile spread when he talked so lovingly about tuning the strings or strumming a certain way, and Yuta hated watching it dissolve into a frown again when their break was over. It was unfortunate to say that Yuta never really learned anything despite how much Goshi talked to him because he would fumble with the chords and strumming and his fingers hurt and he kind-of-sort-of wanted to throw the ukulele on the ground a few times. Though this was mainly his own fault since he was too busy paying attention to Goshi’s behavior rather than his words.

For the rest of that week, Yuta brought the ukulele to Bambi and Goshi watched him mess up everything that he attempted to play. He tried not to look as frustrated and disappointed as he actually was but it was slowly getting to him, and both Goshi and Kento could tell. Originally the two didn’t want to say anything, not when Yuta seemed like he was trying so hard— in the end though, he certainly wasn’t having a great time.

"Ashuu, you're not gonna learn everything in a day, slow down." Goshi reprimanded him. "You're gonna make your fingers bleed if you keep going at it like that.”

Yuta lowered the ukulele, pouting. “Well, I know! But I wanna be good enough to at least learn a song."

"You're still not going to be able to for a while..."

"I can keep trying!"

"Tch, if you want to be like that..." Goshi huffed and turned on his feet. "You'll just get all worked up, and I won't be able to do anything for you."

"I can do it, it's fine!" Yuta declared after him.

"Suit yourself!" And Goshi walked away with his lunch bag in hand.

Kento couldn’t figure out what Yuta’s goal was. Yuta never expressed interest in learning ukulele, or any instrument for that matter. He was the type to suddenly show up with something new for sure, but not to the extent of carrying around a whole instrument. A toy or new candy, sure. But a ukulele? From what Kento knew, nobody else at Bambi owned one, so it’s not like he could have tried one from a friend. If it was a schoolmate, he already would have said something about it. He didn’t though, and that’s what stumped him. This on top of his new strange eating habits had him completely, entirely stumped.

And Yuta wasn’t going to explain himself.

* * *

Goshi was going to the music shop with his mother in the evening, after his day at rehearsals was over. He would have been a lot more excited about it had Yuta not gotten sick at lunch and locked himself in the bathroom.

Nobody realized he was feeling unwell until Hikaru pointed out that Yuta had excused himself more than five minutes ago, and a sudden wave of uneasiness overcame Goshi. He stood up from the table and said he’d go check the washroom to make sure Yuta was okay.

Of course, he was coughing over the toilet in one of the stalls.

“Ashuu? Ashuu, are you okay?” Goshi’s voice echoed in the otherwise empty bathroom.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine.” Yuta’s voice crumbled.

“You don’t sound fine.” Goshi said. “Did you throw up?”

“Um...” Yuta’s small voice trailed off, and he didn’t reply.

“Ashuu.”

“...”

“Ashuu, just tell me you vomited. You should go home if you’re feeling bad, I’ll tell Yashamaru-san.”

Yuta squeaked, “No!”

“No?”

“Please don’t tell Yashamaru-san... I don’t wanna go home...!” Yuta pleaded from the other side of the stall door.

“Why not, going home sounds pretty nice,” Goshi scoffed in response, “Besides, you’ll just get even sicker if you move around, so there’s no point in staying here.”

“Nuh-uh, I’m not going home!”

“Is something wrong with home?”

Goshi received no response to his question.

“You... Ashuu!” Frustrated now, Goshi stepped forward and shook the door. “Come out!”

“Eep!”

“You can’t just hide in there! I’ll...” Goshi hurriedly looked around for some means of a key to his solution. His eyes dropped to the bottom of the door. “I’ll crawl under and drag you out!”

“Why!? You can just go back to practice without me for now!”

“Because you’re acting all weird and you won’t tell me why, so I’m mad!”

“W-Well, it’s ‘cause...!”

“Because why?” Goshi didn’t let up his hold on the door.

“‘Cause... I wanted to go with you and KenKen later...”

“Hah...?”

A sigh was heard, and after a few moments, the click of a lock. Goshi stood back and let Yuta swing open the stall, revealing a miserable expression.

“Lemme wash my mouth first.” He grumbled.

“Yeah, do that.” Goshi nodded towards the sinks. He crossed his arms and waited for Yuta to finish cleaning himself up. Yuta approached him again, but his eyes were on the ground.

Goshi tapped his foot. “So? Explain yourself.”

“I don’t wanna go home ‘cause then I can’t go to the music store with you and KenKen,” Yuta muttered again.

“That’s it, really? If you’re sick then resting is more important than going to a store.”

“No! I was looking forward to going with you guys so much! A-And it’s the first time we’re gonna hang out outside of Bambi since you came back from America, ‘cause you’ve been grounded!”

“A-Ashuu, we can always do something tomorrow instead.” Goshi wasn’t going to admit it, but he was feeling bashful on top of his frustration. Next to the pair, the door to the bathroom creaked open.

“That’s not the same…”

“Oi, Yuta,” Kento appeared from the doorway, gathering Goshi and Yuta’s attention, “Oh, you’re both here.”

“What is it?” Goshi asked with a huff.

Kento held Yuta’s lunch bag in his hands. He reached inside and pulled out a protein bar. “Yuta, you made yourself sick because you kept eating these, didn’t you?”

Goshi’s eyes widened now. “Hey…”

“Urk…” Yuta grimaced. “Well… That’s…”

“Why are you still eating that garbage? Come on, Ashuu.”

Kento fully entered the bathroom now, frowning, “Yuta, what’s going on? You’ve been acting really weird for a while now. Everything you’re doing lately is just making you feel bad.”

Yuta didn’t answer.

“Ashuu, we’re just worried, okay? Can’t you tell us the truth?” Goshi’s voice started rising with his anger, “Or are you gonna leave us in the dark after talking all big like that a few weeks ago, huh!?”

That got a wince out of the other boy, and he finally cracked. “Okay, I got it! I’m sorry… I just…” Yuta began fidgeting with his fingers, a deep guilt ingrained in his features. Kento and Goshi both eagerly awaited his answer.

“Yuta?”

“I was trying to be like you two.”

A silence dropped between the three.

“What…?” Kento quietly asked.

“I thought– I dunno– I thought, after that big talk we all had, that I wanted to get closer to everyone and then maybe I could be a better friend like that. So I started thinking if I do the same things you guys do, then… I-I could understand you better, and we could be as close as best friends.” Yuta’s voice began to waver at the end, tears welling in his eyes.

Kento felt guilty himself, not realizing that sooner. “So that’s why you have these.”

“I tried eating healthier stuff like you and Gouchin n’… I wanted to try guitar, but my sister only had a ukulele, so I tried that instead… n’ I looked at my other sister’s fashion magazines… n’ makeup…” Yuta started rambling through his sadness.

“Ashuu, you’re dumb.” Goshi spoke over him.

“Goshi.” Kento glared.

“You don’t have to do all that stupid stuff to be friends with people! Haven’t you ever heard of being yourself!? If I knew someone that was trying to be me, I would hate them. That’s just being a big, fat copycat with no personality.”

“But…” Yuta wanted to retaliate, “Not copy! Just… trying to understand what you like!”

“If you’re going to the extent of making yourself sick then that’s a little past just understanding!”

Yuta just twirled his fingers together.

“Well, I can understand where you’re coming from… but Goshi is right,” Kento sighed and rubbed his neck, “Yuta, we like you for your differences, not your similarities. You don’t have to start pretending to like all these other things just to appeal to someone. Plus, you’re already a good friend the way you are.”

“Huh?”

“You took care of me a lot when I was sick, so I only have your real person to thank for that.” Kento confessed, slightly blushing.

“Oh…” Yuta finally looked up, “I guess so…”

Goshi took the lunch bag from Kento’s hands and promptly shoved it into Yuta’s arms. “I know things were kind of a mess before, but that doesn’t mean they’re a mess now. I want to see the normal Ashuu that I knew from before I left to America, not some faker.”

Slightly more hopeful, Yuta looked between the two, “So… you don’t care that I can’t do the same things that you guys do?”

“Never did.”

“… I’m sorry, Gouchin. KenKen.” Yuta let a small smile filter into his expression.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you properly told us your feelings, even if we had to drag it out of you.” Patting Yuta on the shoulder, Kento smiled. “You’re gonna stop doing stuff you hate now, right?”

Yuta nodded furiously. “Yes! I promise! It all tastes so gross! I hate playing ukulele! I’m gonna give everything back to my sisters!”

“You better. I won’t tell Yashamaru-san you threw up… and you can have some of my snacks since yours are no good.” Goshi kicked the bathroom door and held it open for the other two. “You can’t get sick again if we’re going out later.”

“Gouchin…!” Any semblance of Yuta’s gloominess from just a minute earlier seemed to have been tossed aside as he jumped to hug Goshi. “Really, you’re the best!”

Goshi flailed between Yuta’s arms and a lunch box that was crushing his side. “R-Right, right. Well, let’s go before someone else comes to find us, okay…!?”

“Okay~!”

* * *

Yuta was entirely too giddy greeting Goshi’s mother after so many weeks and climbing into the back seat of her car, along with Kento. He was overjoyed to have made it through the rest of practice without feeling the need to spill his guts again. He had to thank Goshi’s bag of chips and the cookies that Akane later offered him. They fueled his energy and got that gross taste out of his throat. Throw in some juice, and Yuta was ready to tackle the rest of the day.

Kento, the least energized of the trio, did not fail to notice Goshi hiding his excitement despite sitting directly behind him with the passenger chair invading his vision. He clicked his seatbelt and leaned forward. “So, Goshi, what kind of guitar are you gonna get?”

Goshi had a rare smile on his face when he turned to answer. “Actually… I’ve been thinking about getting an electric one. Acoustic-Electric.”

“Whoa, an electric guitar!?” Yuta exclaimed, “That’s so cool! You can play one?”

“It’s not that much different, it’s not like a real electric guitar.”

“I thought you were just going to get a nice acoustic to replace the old one.” Kento chimed in again.

“No, I want to get used to playing acoustic-electric, and then one day I can buy an actual electric guitar.” Goshi held up his wallet. “I’ve been saving for all this kind of stuff.”

“Goshi,” Suddenly his mother spoke up as she turned on the car. “Why don’t you just get an acoustic guitar and an electric one?”

“What? Both of them?” Goshi was completely surprised.

“Isn’t that what most people do? That way you can have two different sounds if you want to make music.”

“But… isn’t that really expensive?” Goshi looked at his wallet. There was most definitely not enough for two guitars in there.

“Before you went overseas, your father and I actually thought we should get you a new guitar as a gift. I’ll buy you an acoustic, so why don’t you, Kento-kun and Ashuu-kun choose a pretty electric guitar together?”

“Seriously? Mom…!” He let his mouth hang, too shocked to reply properly.

In the back seat, he heard a gasp from Yuta, “Gouchin, isn’t that so great!?”

“You beat up a teacher and you get two guitars, I can’t believe you’re so lucky.” Kento laughed.

“Your mom is so nice; can she be my mom too?”

“Sh-shut up! Don’t make fun of me!” Despite Goshi sounding agitated, there was a glow of happiness surrounding him. He threatened to toss his friends out of the car while his mother chuckled.

It wasn’t before long that they arrived at the music shop, and were climbing out of the car. Goshi acted as though something sacred was waiting for him behind the plexiglass doors of the building.

Kento and Yuta pushed him through though, and the trio stared around the room in awe. Besides the larger instruments like pianos and cellos on the main floor, the walls of the building displayed so, so many choices of smaller ones– mainly strings.

“Oh, god there’s too many.” Kento offhandedly commented.

A man wearing a black moto jacket casually approached the group. “Hello there, can I help you find anything?”

“I wanted to look at electric guitars.” Goshi scanned the man– the assistant manager, as his ID tag read. He had a cool vibe about him. And that was a nice jacket.

“Oh really? I can show you where they are.” The man smiled at Goshi and waved for the group to follow him. “First one?”

“Yeah. I’ve only played an acoustic before.”

“Very nice. You do look like you should be rocking an electric.”

Goshi rubbed the back of his head. “Thanks. I hope so.”

Stopping at a wall in a new corner of the store, the man motioned to the display of electric guitar hanging from the pegs. “Y’know what kind you want? If not, we can try ‘em out and see how it feels for you.”

“Uh, I have some ideas of brands, but probably something… on the lower cost side. Especially because I’ll have to buy an amp, too.”

“Gotcha, what’s your budget buddy?”

“Around $400 for everything.”

“That’s not bad.” The manager took Goshi over to a new part of the guitar collection. Kento and Yuta drifted behind to look around at the many options. “There’s some good ones around here- you heard of stratocasters and telecasters?”

“Yeah, actually I was wondering which one would work better for…”

“KenKen.” Yuta turned to whisper to his taller friend. “What are they talking about?”

“I don’t know. I just play the piano.” Kento shrugged and flipped a price card on one of the guitars he could reach. He made a face reading its tag and immediately flipped it back.

“Urgh… I don’t know anything about guitars, I can’t help him choose.”

“You don’t have to help him. We’re just here ‘cause we’re his friends.”

Yuta blinked, thinking for a moment. “Huh. You’re right!”

“Your head’s still in the wrong place.” Kento playfully poked Yuta’s forehead, who in turn pouted at him.

“I said sorry earlier!”

“I’m just messing around~ You remember what Goshi’s mom said? ‘Choose a pretty guitar’ right?”

“Ah, right right. Let’s do that!”

“Well,” Kento looked over his shoulder, seeing Goshi take a seat on an ottoman to test out one of many guitars. “Let’s just see what kind he chooses first, then we’ll do that.”

“Uh-huh! Actually, let’s go find his mom in the meantime, she wanted to buy an acoustic one for Gouchin, too.”

Kento nodded, tugging at a lock of hair. “Good idea.”

Yuta simply skipped away, turning at a corner with Kento trudging not too far behind. At a setup nearby, they spotted Goshi’s mother. She was talking to another employee, referencing a catalog.

“Mrs.Kaneshiro!”

“Oh, you two…!” She turned at the call of her name. “Good timing. Yuta-kun, could you come here for a second?”

She had Yuta hold an acoustic guitar for size reference. He was closer to Goshi’s height than Kento, so having him nearby was a great help. Later, she said, she’d make sure it suited Goshi’s hands right. For now, she’d choose a nice enough one that she thought he’d like.

“I’m curious,” Kento started, “You don’t think two is a lot?”

“I knew he would have more than one sooner or later. You know how he gets about music.” Goshi’s mother answered. “I know all these musicians have so many guitars.”

“True. It still just seems funny to me you’d let him have them after his overseas fiasco.”

She laughed then. “It’s because I knew he was right about that instructor. Well, the violence wasn’t right. But I knew he was being targeted– one of his classmates recorded a video of what happened, and another teacher of his vouched for his innocence.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that.”

“I’m not surprised he didn’t share that with you. He was very upset for a long time.”

“I guess I would be too.”

“Well, it’s in the past now. I just want him to do what he’s good at.”

Yuta shuffled over, cradling the acoustic guitar in his arms. “Gouchin has such a kind mother!”

“I’m pretty jealous.” Kento laughed bitterly.

“If you come over enough, I’ll treat you like my kids too.” Goshi’s mom heartily chuckled and took the guitar from Yuta’s hold. “Let’s see what my actual son up to now, though.”

“Right.” Kento wouldn’t have minded coming over more often, he thought to himself. The promise of a kind mother was much too enticing for him. He quickly discarded his invasive stream of ideas on their walk back to the electric setup, but it loomed in the back of his mind as he walked next to her.

“Goshi, have you chosen something yet?”

The boy in question turned back to his group. “I’m thinking about this one. A Fender.”

“Looks cool!” Yuta hopped to sit next to him. “This color? Black?”

“It suits you.” Kento smirked.

“Well, I’m not set on the black. I just like how it feels and plays.”

“Where’d that manager guy go?”  
“He said he’d bring me an amp that’ll go with it.”

Goshi’s mother walked over to her son, turning the acoustic in her hand. “Do you like this one? I want to make sure it’s the right size for you too.”

“Oh.” Goshi perked up and put the electric down on the cushions. He took the acoustic in his grip instead, and strummed a simple tune as a test run. Yuta couldn’t help but watch his fingers dance along the strings, feeling vaguely envious of his skill. If only he had the coordination to play that, even the tiniest bit… but it would likely never be his own talent, no matter how cool he thought it was.

“It sounds really good… I like this one. N’ I think it fits fine, it’s about the size of the electric too.”

“That’s great. I’ll keep this with me then, you can finish up here and find me when you’re done.”

“Alright. Thanks, mom.” Goshi flashed a smile as she walked away, and picked up the black Fender once more. He looked at Yuta next to him, and Kento standing some steps away.

“You seem happy.” Kento couldn’t help but tease.

“I sure fuckin’ am. Hey, choose a color.”

“Huh?”

“My mom said ‘choose a pretty guitar’ together, so I’m askin’ you to pick a color for it, dummy.”

“Ahh, that’s it. Something more stylish than black for sure.”

“I think you need something bright since you always wear black, ‘cause if you got a dark color you’d look really depressing all the time!” Yuta covered his mouth in a fit of giggles.

Goshi grumbled in response. “Tch, I get it!”

“Okay, okay, we’ll choose something else,” Kento quirked a half-smile and looked around the display for any ideas that would suit his irritable friend well.

Yuta, meanwhile, decided it best to look at Goshi himself for ideas. He scanned Goshi’s aesthetics up and down, trying to pick out the tiniest hints of color. His hoodie was a dark pine today, but green didn’t exactly suit him well. The dark blue of his jeans didn’t either, nor the flecks of orange in his shoes. Yuta scrunched his nose in thought, and let his eyes wander even more. Eventually, he met the silhouette of Goshi’s face again and tilted his head.

“You should get red.” Yuta blurted out.

Goshi turned to him. “Red?”

“Red… It matches your eyes.”

“My—" Goshi blinked, flustering slightly. “My eyes?”

“Ohh, not bad, Yuta. That’s actually a really good idea,” Kento praised the youngest. “Red is a really strong color, too. It goes with Goshi’s attitude well.”

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

Yuta cut in again, “Well, do you like the idea?”

“… I do. Like you said, it’s powerful. I can’t get something lame, like blue or whatever.”

“Yay! That’s great! Let’s ask the manager if it comes in red when he comes back.”

“Sure. I will.”

Finally bringing in an amp, the assistant manager guided Goshi through the steps to set up the amp with the guitar and change the controls, and let him play a bit to hear its tone. It was a strange experience, flipping to something that seemed almost drastically different than the childish instrument he held just months earlier. The metal strings buzzed under his fingertips, the sound of rock tearing through a lowered speaker. It made him feel like he was finally growing up. Finally moving on to something greater that could change his career– his life.

He wondered briefly what his life would have been like, had he let go of his tattered acoustic much earlier… despite how much meaning it held between its wooden cracks.

“I definitely think this is the one.” He smiled at the assistant manager. “Does it come in any other colors? I was thinking a red one would be nice.”  
“We do in fact have that model in red. I can take that from you and bring a red one to the front counter– just wait over there, take the amp with you so I can pack them all up together.”  
“Thanks a whole lot.” Goshi nodded and handed the black fender over, quickly replacing it in his hands with the handle of the amp and its cord.

With a subtle glow on his face, Goshi motioned to have Kento and Yuta follow him, and found his mother waiting nearby the front counters as well. He placed the amp on the countertop and stretched his arms out, sighing. Yuta tapped on the wood, humming.

“Being here makes me want a new keyboard.” Kento crossed his arms.

“KenKen, you should get one of those cool keyboard guitars! Key-tar? Um, something like that!”

“Ehh, maybe if I was a performer? But I’m not right now. We’re still in Bambi.”

“Get one later! Then you’ll look as cool as Gouchin with his red guitar!”

“Does Goshi look cool? I’m not too sure.”

Goshi rolled his eyes. “I heard that.”

Yuta giggled, tapping his fingers in a new rhythm. His other hand joined it for something more stable. Goshi’s eyes finally spared a glance towards the antics of the other, and he watched with calculating thoughts in an otherwise comfortable silence. Yuta always had this excess hyper energy, as if dancing and singing just weren’t enough for its output. It was surprising considering how sick he had gotten earlier in the day, but Goshi supposed that was one of his characteristic quirks. He never truly got tired. If there were some way for that to be filtered… something he could put his all into…

“Hey, Ashuu.”

“Nn?” Yuta turned, his cheeks puffed. He blinked when Goshi took his arm.

“Come with me for a second.”

“Uhh? Huh, okay.”

And Goshi pulled Yuta away from the desk, ignoring Kento’s questioning looks. He wove them through a few displays on the floor, turning his head to find something that should have been easy to pinpoint. After all, what he had in mind was pretty huge.

Against a parallel wall, surrounded by snares and cymbals, Goshi presented Yuta with a drum kit. He clapped Yuta on the shoulder and turned to him earnestly.

“Ashuu, you hated playing strings, but I think you’d like something like this.”

Yuta tapped his finger to his lips. “Drums?”

“Yeah.” Goshi pushed his friend to the stool, and picked up the drumsticks attached to the set, “Just try it, okay?”

Yuta hesitated, but took the sticks in his grip and sat down, without a clue of what to do. Goshi stepped behind him in wait. A nervous beat began in Yuta’s heart as he wondered if Goshi would be disappointed if he didn’t like playing the drum kit. After his episode with the ukulele, Yuta wasn’t sure he was fully into the scene of playing instruments. But if he could be the rhythm between Goshi’s guitar, and Kento’s piano, then maybe just trying it would be worth the effort. Maybe he’d find out he had a talent he could finally share.

He tapped the stick against the floor tom, and then the snare, figuring out what each part would sound like. And then he hit it a bit harder, and hit the middle tom, and one of the cymbals. The beat he was drumming against the countertop just minutes earlier carried through his fingertips, and while it was clunky on the set, Yuta found the feel of it satisfying, and more so the sound against the polyester than the coated wood. This was a lot easier, he thought. Hitting things. There weren’t as many sounds to keep track of, it was really just about keeping the beat. Which he knew he could do– his specialty was dance, so he had to be good at it. But his fingers didn’t get confused, and he didn’t have to keep track of all these patterns and letters, and it was awesome.

The sudden excitement thrumming through his blood made the sticks feel lighter, and soon Yuta was drumming out the random beats of energy that flew through his head mindlessly. He tried out the bass and hi-top pedals for something a bit new, realizing he could use his whole body to control his sounds. Yuta couldn’t see it, but Goshi was sporting a knowing smile behind his back. Of course, Yuta had to end his small session by cracking against the symbol, like all those bands he saw in music videos and on TV.

Goshi walked to Yuta’s side, putting his hands on his hips. “So?”

“I…” Yuta turned his head to look at Goshi, eyes sparkling the same kind of gold that reflected off the metallic finish of the cymbal between them. His smile grew enough to show off his crooked canines and scrunch up his freckles. Goshi knew that look.

“I really, really love it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall thought u seen the last of me! sorry... school has been crazy... but i do want to keep this fic going!  
> theres a lot of childhood events i want to cover with this fic, and my thoughts on the story have changed a bit over the past few months just because we're getting more stories through the game. not enough to change my direction, but enough to make me want to add more details to this alternate retelling.  
> thank you for reading this so far!

**Author's Note:**

> I pushed aside a whole handful of other fics I started just to write this multichapter one to make me sad. As a forewarning, some of the events are made up but still based on whatever is canon as of June 6th 2019. (For example, we know some of the characters have family issues but these are never elaborated on in canon. I might be making up family events to continue this story.) Consider this like an alternate retelling of THRIVE's canon. I'm sharing my angst with you, enjoy!


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